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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


Chap..r-^5Copyriglit No. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


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OLLA PERKINS TOPH. 

A 


( COPYRIGHTED . ) 


’‘he: was DE:SPIvSE:d and RE:je:CTe:D of MFN; a man of 
SORROWS AND ACQUAINTE:d WITH GRIFF.”— Messiah. 




\ 


^ INDIANAPOLIS : 

INDIANAPOLIS PRINTING CO., 37-39 VIRGINIA AVE, 


1895- 






DEDICATED TO ALL WHO LABOR WITHOUT 
REDRESS OF WRONGS. 


CALVARY. 


We fashion, with our own weak hands, the tree 
Whereon our souls must bleed. We lift the gall 
Of hate to lips that thirst for love. For all 
Sad hearts that beat there is a Calvary. 

And through all time, e’en to eternity. 

The shadow of the cross looms high. Some eyes 
There are that do behold the jeweled skies 
Of peace that smile above the tragedy ; 

Some placid brows that wear the thorns in sweet 
Serenity; some lips that bravely sing 
Of love, and hope, and life, when eyes grow dim. 
And death, the beautiful, waits near the feet. 

For neither height, nor depth, nor anything 
In time or space, can keep God’s own from Him, 


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LAZARUS 


1 . 

The Elder Brother and Lazarus met on heaven’s 
highway. Their hearts were sad because of the 
world’s misery. Down there, within the shadow o^ 
the cross, wept men and women and children — men 
overburdened and ill-requited, wom'en care-worn and 
prematurely aged, children weighted with the care 
which is the dire burden of maturity. 

The Elder Brother, in spirit, went back to that 
tragedy of by-gone centuries, through which he, the 
central figure, hoped to right the wrongs of earth. 
He beheld again the darkening sky and the yawning 
graves. He beheld those others who suffered with 
him and he questioned if all that anguish were in vain. 
Down there they extolled his name. True, they 
petitioned him, they praised him, they cast themselves 
in conscious humility before the sanctity of his life. 
They, who called themselves men of God, thundered 
anathema against unbelievers. With tears and broken 
sighs they exhorted sinners to come to Christ. The 
hearers thrilled to the emotion, for they, as a rule, be- 
longed to the class which is otherwise so well favored 


6 


LAZARUS. 


that it can indulge in the blissful workings of religious 
emotion. But there were others, who, from the gutter or 
the curb listened to the words. Against the anathema 
they opposed rebellion and defiance ; to the exhorta- 
tion they presented dogged obstinacy ; from the mas- 
ter hand, seeking to twang the strings of their sensi- 
tiveness, they rudely jerked away. Their physical 
necessities forebade indulgence of the emotions, unless 
it be those of anger or sullen resentment. 

The Elder Brother respected the honest efforts of 
those men of God, but — they failed of his intentions. 
They passed by those types of manhood, representa- 
tive of him who row stood by his side. They and 
their followers gave largely, to be sure, but those of 
the curb wanted justice and equity, not charity. The 
principle of independence was as aggressively de- 
veloped in them as in those who gave. Charity, how- 
ever sweetly bestowed, shamed their manhood. They 
knew that the aggregate, however good, held a unit 
of grudging giving. They resented the degradation 
of their position. They felt the stirrings within them 
of the wonderful poetry of life ; but alas ! the prose 
of poverty crushed beautiful imagery. 

The Elder Brother was weary of heart. He went 
into the world, trying to infuse into it the graciousness 
and sweetness of his presence. He, alone, knew the 
hidden misery of the curb-stone people. He, alone, 
understood their struggles with hardship and pain and 
injustice. He, alone, appreciated the force of environ- 
ment. They tried to be true to the dictates of their 


LAZARUS. 


7 


souls — for purity and honesty and loyalty were as 
strong in them as in the favored — but poverty and 
misery hedged closer and closer about them, until their 
poor souls grew faint for air in which to expand. 
And, when they failed utterly ; when crime and degra- 
dation became stamped upon them, the men of God 
used them as texts concerning the degeneracy of man 
and presented them as awful examples of those who 
refused to hear the voice of the Lord speaking through 
his humble servants. 

The Elder Brother spoke : “ Oh, my children ! My 
children ! Would that there were more bold and fear- 
less enough down there in the suffering world, to 
champion your cause. Those there are who are so 
imbued with the spirit of brotherly love, that they 
put self wholly aside and labor for the betterment of 
mankind. But they are few — few.” 

He reached forth his nail-marked hands, but not in 
benediction. “Oh, World ! World ! the woe of you 
presses heavily upon me. I gave my life to establish 
the truth and to promulgate the principles of a just 
cause. And yet falsity battles with the truth and might 
throttles right. My children ! My children ! By the 
power of my love and my brotherhood, I will succor 
you yet. The oppressor shall fall. The tyrant shall 
be bound in chains of his own forging. The cries of 
outraged trust, the moans of injured innocence and 
suffering children shall ring for his misery and con- 
fusion. My laws shall not always be disobeyed ; in- 
fringement shall bring deserved punishment.” He 


8 


LAZARUS. 


bowed his head in grief, as he had bowed it in that 
garden of sorrows in the far century. 

Lazarus kissed the nail-prints of his hand and 
murmured softly : ‘‘ Dear Elder Brother ! Dear Lord ! 
would I might have a part in man’s upliftment. Only 
command, and I am ready. Down there, are thousands 
suffering as I suffered, for I, too, was the product of 
a system. With correct administration of justice and 
fair apportionment of earthly goods, those who typify 
my past condition, would cease to exist. With such 
change, they would typify the truth, which thou, dear 
Elder Brother, didst die to establish. With such 
change, they would represent the nobility inherent in 
man. Such change would diffuse the Christ principle 
more surely than all the blatant discourses of the 
world. Would I might labor with those of earth for 
a while.” 

The Elder Brother smiled to him. “ So be it, 
Lazarus. Come, then, and we, unseen, unheard, will 
make ourselves felt in that suffering world. Together 
we will labor. Some soul down there shall respond to 
our inspiration, and present to the world the truths 
which we can give only in spirit. They who cry aloud 
for the spirit of the Lord to descend upon them shall 
realize that descent, but in a manner at variance with 
expectation. There shall come to them no radiance of 
glory, no blinding reflection of divinity, but an insurg- 
ence of self-arraigning thoughts and an -appeal to the 
conscience which is the germ of the divine in man. A 
man of God shall uprise and minister unto the needs 


LAZARUS. 


9 


of the people. Under his teaching, the children of 
the curb shall emerge from misery into comparative 
happiness — comparative only, for positive happiness 
will never exist until corruption shall have been elimi- 
nated from legislation ; until self-interest shall have 
been divorced from public service. 

“The brotherhood of man shall unite with the 
fatherhood of God, as a foundation for Christianity. 
The inception of good works shall be from that dual- 
ity. Come thou, my Lazarus.’* 


LAZARUS. 


»0 


QUEST. 


‘ ' Let us go hence; take my hand and let us go away back to that 
strange world from which we came.'‘'‘ 

I shall find him ; in some veiled place he waits, 

With blossoms trailing from his dusky hair 
And floating o’er his saintly hands, that bear 
A holy benediction through earth’s gales. 

Not land nor sea, not stern decree of fates 
Shall keep me from my love. He waits somewhere 
To bless me and to make the world grow fair. 

Because of banished rancor and dead hates. 

Though years stretch far between, his voice I hear. 

Like tinkling music, calling in a dream 
So sweet, my heart grows faint to greet its own. 

O, thou beloved ! would that the time were near 
When thy dear Country Beautiful might seem 
Nearer to us who wait without — alone. 


LAZARUS. 


II 


//. 

Out of the glory of heaven into the darkness of 
earth they went. The children of the curb lifted their 
heads as they passed over them. New hope, born 
of the holy presence, sprang to their hearts. They 
rebuckled their armor, ready to go forth again to battle 
with toil and hardship. Somewhere, they felt, was 
help on its way hither. Some one was coming to be 
the Messiah of the world of labor. They did not 
know that out of the dead centuries came two — one 
who had already yielded himself a sacrifice, the other 
the prototype of themselves. 

The children of the curb drew closely together 
to better stay the force of the wind, for the day was 
murky and full of threatening suggestions of coming 
storm. They huddled their little ones close, trying to 
shield their tender bodies. They looked dully at the 
lightly clad shoulders and purpling hands and naked 
feet, wondering why such things must be. 

In a land of civilization, within sound of unctuous 
tones and organ sweetness and chancel fragrance, they 
crouched in abject poverty. They were so many — 
so many — and yet but a unit of that vast multitude 
which wearies heaven, day and night, with prayers 
for deliverance. The new-born hope was strangled 
by the present reality. The children cried for bread. 


I2 


LAZARUS. 


Their gaunt faces and famished eyes held little of child- 
ishness. One, with vision sharpened by hunger, found 
a crust of bread in the gutter, but as he clutched it, 
others disputed his right with puny blows and frantic 
grasps. Tears there were not, for they had been cried 
away. 

The men stood with bowed heads or sat on the 
curb, with their wives gathered close to their sides. 
The wind shrilled. Flakes of snow drifted against 
their faces with impertinent familiarity. They shiv- 
ered, for the cold caress presaged worse misery. 
The organ within the warm sanctuary swelled forth 
jubilantly. The trained voices rang out the Gloria In 
Excelsis. The tones wandered out to the curb, but a 
baby’s hungry cry rose louder than the Gloria, and 
spoke a clearer message to those who heard. Glory 
in the heavens and misery on earth ! 

The man of God, with good intent, poured out the 
vials of sanctity, but as they emptied over the heads 
of the devotees and rolled in a stream out the door 
to the curb, the water of Jordan changed to the 
turbidness of the Dead Sea. No fragrance spilled 
from swinging censers could have sweetened it. 

The man of God prayed fervently and earnestly ; 
and Amens answered sonorously. He chose his text 
with regard to the prejudices of his hearers. He 
satisfied the intellectual part of them. There were no 
clashing allusions to toil, no indelicate hints of un- 
pleasant duties. He bent toward their emotional 
natures, and his hand, trained to skillful maaipulation, 


LAZARUS. 


13 


plucked first one chord and then another of their 
hearts, until a perfect emotional symphony was evoked. 
The vibrations trembled with such delicacy that emo- 
tion was mistaken for conviction ; sensuous pleasure 
in smooth phrases and flowery metaphor for intelli- 
gent comprehension of the truth. Insult to the 
intelligence was accepted as truth, if only it presented 
itself appropriately garbed. 

The Elder Brother and Lazarus entered the sanctu- 
ary. Their footsteps challenged no echo. If the 
divine proximity awoke thoughts of holiness and 
resolutions of righteousness, the people knew it not, 
but ascribed such awakening to the potency of the 
speaker’s words. The Elder Brother went among the 
people as they prayed him to come ; but he went, not 
in answer to supplication, but seeking that one whom 
he designed to establish as the Saviour of labor. The 
music, and subdued light, and memorial windows, and 
fragrant flowers, offered at the shrine of his name, 
stirred no passion of love in him. Even the prayers 
rang hollow and the choral harshly discordant. He 
heard the baby’s hungry cry and before the misery of 
it, other sounds could not hold sweetness. 

As he went among the people, his thoughts dwelt 
on that far century in v>^hich he had suffered his earth 
life. He thought that if his sacrifice had been re- 
served for the nineteenth century, still would the 
tragedy have been the same. They of this century 
would slay him as did those of old ; if, for no weightier 
reason than that he, whose hands bore the stain of 


M 


LAZARUS. 


toil, dared proclaim himself the Child of the Kingf. 
They weep now over the nail-prints and sword- 
thrusts, little knowing that with each blow dealt a 
brother they reopen his wounds. 

A man, with bowed head, sat in the rear of the 
sanctuary. He had entered, hoping to find counsel 
and wisdom. He had seen those children of the curb 
and his heart had gone out to them, He yearned to 
brighten their lives, to instill sweetness where now 
was only bitterness. He had investigated the causes 
which led to a curb habitation. He went back of 
apparent causes — those of improvidence and intem- 
perance and immorality, the causes generally ascribed 
by the pulpit as producing the misery of poverty — 
and he found the origin in ilbrequited labor and greedy 
monopoly and corporative tyranny. He had gone 
into factories, where women and children stitched their 
lives away for a miserable pittance, in poorly venti- 
lated rooms and under infamous discipline. He had 
gone down into the depths of the earth, where men 
worked by the flare of lamps all day, with the black 
dust filling their lungs and dimming their eyes, for 
barely living wage, that the owners of those mines 
might become enriched. He had seen those men, com- 
pelled by a barbarous system, to yield their earnings 
in exorbitant payment for food and clothing and shel- 
ter to those prosperous owners. What wonder, then, 
that sometimes such slaves rebelled with blood shed ? 

He had seen the women in the world of labor slav- 
ing for the women of the rich ; weaving them rare 


LAZARUS. 


15 


tapestries and threading beautiful laces, stitching bride 
garments and child outfits, sewing tears and heart- 
aches with each thrust of the needle and receiving in 
exchange meager, often disputed, pay and contempt- 
uous intolerance of their rights. He had seen those 
women of the rich lift their dainty skirts lest the pass- 
ing child of the poor stain them with its tiny fingers. 
He had heard those women, self-appointed disciples 
of woman advancement, voice liberality and great- 
heartedness in public, while privately practicing nar- 
row egotism and insolent assumption of superiority. 

He had seen the children of the rich growing to 
fill their parents’ places. As a prophet, he saw each 
generation arraying itself with increased vigor and 
more bitter animosity and crueler selfishness against 
the defenseless children of the poor. 

He had sought this refuge for self-communion and 
in the hope that one wiser than himself, might, from 
a largeness of soul and wideness of misery-knowl- 
edge, help him to some conclusion regarding the 
emancipation of the world of labor. But to his need 
was offered only beautiful rhetoric ; to the cry of his 
soul came the echo of platitude ; to the outreaching of 
his sympathies was given the barren desert of selfish- 
ness, with no oasis brightening the gray expanse. 

The Elder Brother approached him and an influx of 
holiness bathed his spirit. His heart swelled in an- 
swer to the unspoken mandate, and he cried : “Yea, 
dear, my Lord, I yield myself to thy service. I dedi- 
cate my life to the promulgation of Christian truth — 


i6 


LAZARUS. 


not the truth which sets itself up for creedish adher- 
ence and intolerant sovereignty — but which enters into 
the life of humanity, uplifting and uplifted.” 

Then Lazarus, spirit of those whose cause he es- 
poused, drew nigh and took the man’s man. Again 
the influence bound his soul to holy resolutions. He 
knew not that Lazarus stood there. He felt no hand 
pressure, no approving touch ; but the blessing of 
those holy presences was upon him and his appointed 
work. 

The Elder Brother turned to Lazarus. “ Lazarus,” 
he said, “ we have found our servant. Together we 
will help him to brighten the world of labor. To- 
gether we will impress him to fearless speech and bold 
action. He is our chosen. Come thou, my Lazarus.” 

The snow drifted a white cloud which hid the door 
of the sanctuary. It seemed as though Azrael him- 
self, with prophetic intent, had cast the shadow of 
his wing over the cause, which had reared itself, in 
sublime insolence, without the basic principle of broth- 
erly love. And the children of the curb felt again the 
singing of hope in their hearts ; but they knew not 
that the Elder Brother and Lazarus passed over them. 


LAZARUS. 


17 


THE BEIAUTIFUi. LAND. 


There's a Beautiful Land that lies to the west 
Of the far-famed valley of tears, 

Where griefs that are born are jealously prest 
To the hearts of sorrowful years, 

And are borne, with a noiseless, measureless tread 
Down the valley, across the strand, 

Straight on to the sea, where the barques of the dead 
Float by to the Beautiful Land. 

The dip of the water is heard in the night. 

And the griefs that lie on the sands 
In their naked woe, through the shimmering light, 
Reach out their weird, shadowy hands 
And beckon the vessels to come to them there, 

And call to the mystical band 
That drifts o’er the sea, to a welcoming air 
Blown soft from the Beautiful Land. 

They glide in the wonderful silence of death, 

With faces, snow white, to the west. 

And lily hands, kissed by the spice-laden breath 
That strays from the sweet land of rest. 

The]^ heed not a moan from the gray, misty vale ; 

They see not a beckoning hand; 

But sweetly they sleep in the barges a-sail 
For the beautiful, rest-filled land. 


I8 


LAZARUS. 


Ill, 

The world of fashion held carnival with dance and 
banquet. The house of Dives glowed with light. 
The heavy odor of flowers crept through the swinging 
doors and down to the curb. The brilliancy of the 
lights threw a reflection on the sidewalk, which length- 
ened to the shadows in which the unfavored crouched, 
almost under the wheels of the carriages which rolled 
to the curb. A warm carpet stretched from the curb 
to the mansion door, that dainty feet might not press 
the cold pavement ; and bordering that strip of velvet 
were ragged, cold-benumbed children. 

Strains of music issued in gay volume. Gleaming 
bare shoulders and fluttering laces and shimmering 
silks flashed past the windows in a dizzying whirl. 
The children outside, imitated those movements in the 
effort to keep warm. The odor of savory food saluted 
the hungry people, but they of the by-ways were not 
bidden to the feast. 

Dives himself, richly appareled, did the honors of 
his house, with graciousness and condescension. His 
guests were flattered by his attention, for Dives ranked 
highest among the magnates of the city. His posses- 
sions embraced city squares, and stretched away to the 
green fields of the blessed country. Street after street 
bore testimony, in stately buildings, to the magnitude 


LAZARUS. 


19 


of his wealth. And not only in wealth did he rank 
high. He was set above even those of his own class. 
He was a pillar in the church, a shining light of piety. 
He gave largely. He contributed to foreign missions. 
He wrote and spoke of the misery of the slums with a 
pathos which wrung tears from those who did not 
dwell therein. 

The pathos never reached the people of the slums. 
They heard of Dives only as an oppressor, and a hard 
task master. In the intervals, when they gathered at 
the curb, they spoke together of him and his works — 
not with admiring awe, as did those of the world of 
fashion, but with lowering looks and suppressed bitter- 
ness, and the knowledge born of close acquaintance 
with one side of his nature, denied to others. 

They beheld the courting of public approval which 
his generosity masked. They saw the real narrowness, 
borrowing of religion and masquerading as liberality. 
They heard the acidity of the voice, sweetened by 
honeyed phrases concerning universal brotherhood, 
and the one common divine parentage. They under- 
stood Dives as those of bis own world never would 
understand him, for misery, while blunting their men- 
tal capabilities in one direction, sharpened them in an- 
other, just as fever, blunting the finer sensibilities and 
dulling the larger interests of life, sharpens the trifles, 
magnifying them to grotesqueness. 

Those of the curb shivered within the radius of 
warmth. They hungered in sight of plenty. They 
writhed at the feet of pleasure. Not in humility or 


20 


LAZARUS. 


shame, or conscious inferiority, but in the weakness 
which comes from utter despair. Wherever they turned 
there was the light of Dives’ house streaming upon 
them. They could not get beyond its brilliancy and 
its accompanying shadows. Sometimes they crept to 
the curb outside the building where Dives spoke. 
They heard his thunders against Russian serfdom; they 
felt the scourging of the knout, the jagged cuts pur- 
pling the flesh; they saw their children grown old and 
shriveled; they saw the Siberian wastes, with them- 
selves the exiles, toiling toward the mines which shut 
out light and hope forever. For a moment they, too, 
yielded to Dives’ magic, and then they came back 
to their’ own Siberian misery; to the cutting of the 
bitter blasts in their faces, and the scourging of the 
relentless task-master, driving them to desperation. 
They saw the misery of the mines duplicated in their 
own country, only, where the one blinded with a white 
glare the other blinded with intense darkness. 

They heard singing in Dives’ house. They pressed 
close to the area railing. Those of the children who 
evaded the guard crept on the strip of carpet to ease 
the cold of their little feet. 

A voice, rich and full, trilled and soared, and spoke 
to those who listened of the better land. A hush fell 
upon the world of pleasure. The dancing ceased, the 
banquet table was deserted. They hushed their whisp- 
ers while the voice crept into their hearts, stirring them 
to higher aspirations and purer aims. They looked into 
the unknown, questioning, Whither.'^ Whither? But 


LAZAJ^US. 


21 


the voices of their souls answered not, for pride and 
selfishness held them dumb. Forever are they silent, 
until the spell is broken by the gentleness of love. The 
singer lifted her soul above her surroundings. She 
sang to those who wept without, for she, too, once 
had belonged to the curb, but fortune had smiled upon 
her where it had frowned upon others. She remem- 
bered. Her heart went out to the misery which she 
knew so well, a passion for humanity inspired her, and 
she sang the souls of her hearers to ecstacy. 

The last tone died away, and then a voice from the 
curb wailed forth an air it had sung in happier days. 
Sweetness there was not in the voice, for hunger and 
sickness and the overstrain of hardship had long ago 
done their work of destruction. It rose cracked and 
shrill, and heavy with the woe of the words and the 
pain of the singer’s heart: “ He was despised — des- 
pised — and rejected — rejected of men.” Over and over, 
with persistent iteration, till the shrillness penetrated 
the warm rooms of pleasure. 

And with the thrilling of that anguish, the gate of 
heaven opened, and the Elder Brother and Lazarus 
came forth and drew near to Dives’ dwelling. As 
they came to the door, unseen, unheard, they saw the 
guard pushing and clubbing the children of the curb 
from the area railing. They heard him muttering: 
“Away! away!” And the Elder Brother, with sor- 
rowful eyes, turned to Lazarus and said: “Hear ye 
the echo, Lazarus? Doth it not seem the counter- 
part of that cry which rang for mv doom — “Crucify! 
Crucify!” 


42 


LAZARUS, 


Lazarus kissed the nail print of the hand he held. 
“Dear Elder Brother,” he said, “it will not always be 
thus, surely. They have thy promise of comfort. They 
are the weary laden, and if they come not unto thee, then 
thou goest unto them, for thou art the lover of human- 
ity, the brother of these suffering ones. Thou wilt not 
suffer this always to be, dear Lord?” 

“Nay, my Lazarus. And those others — those op- 
pressors of the weak and assailants of the defenseless — 
they shall feel the weight of my just anger.” 

The softness of the beautiful eyes darkened to stern- 
ness. The Son of the House of David wore, for that 
moment, not the meekness of Pilate’s victim nor the 
resignation of Calvary, but the sternness of Moses on 
Sinai, thundering his “Thus shalt thou,” and “Thus 
shalt thou not.” 

They passed into Dives’ house. The children of the 
curb looked up as they passed, thinking singing voices 
were in the air. The hush, induced by the weirdness 
of the curbstoije singing, still held merriment dumb. 
As the Elder Brother moved among the people they 
became conscious of his influence. They stifled; and 
opened the windows wider. Their hearts seemed burst- 
ing with a nameless terror and a woe that defied analy- 
sis. They did not know that from the cross century 
stretched the shadow of persecution and injustice, en- 
wrapping them until their little selfish interests were 
throttled in its intensity. 

They could not control their restlessness. They list- 
ened dreamily to broken phrases. They thought of 


LAZARUS. 


23 


the better land — where lay the land better than that of 
pleasure? — and then — obtrusive suggestion! — came the 
wail of the curbstone: “ He was despised — despised — 
and rejected — rejected of men.” 

And they took it to themselves. They did not know 
that the Elder Brother was among them, but their 
thoughts, unbidden, went out to him and to those 
creatures, representative of the Elder Brother’s com- 
panion. The beauty of the exotics withered in the 
heat of his righteous anger. The lights flickered in the 
brilliancy of the celestial glory. The music clashed 
and broke in the thralldom of the Elder Brother’s tones, 
which swelled and bound them in unearthly sweetness. 

He drew close to Dives, so close that his shamed 
eyes drooped, and his thoughts flew to that portion of 
the world of labor which he dominated. He saw the 
great building, with its eyes flashing lights and its 
walls shaking with the jar of machinery. He saw the 
bent figures and the white faces, and the dull eyes and 
the tired hands, which yet must not rest. He saw the 
misery of the faces, and with that accusing presence 
beside him, he found power to read the misery of the 
hearts and to enter into the lives which held so little 
brightness. 

And he knew himself the author of that misery. He 
overworked and underpaid, that he himself might live 
in luxury. He crushed with his left hand, that his 
right might be extended in generosity. He dwarfed 
the children of the poor, that his children might be 
educated to follow in his selfish footsteps. He ground 


24 


LAZARUS. 


youth and health out of womanhood, that his own 
womenfolk might revel in extravagance. He bound 
manhood in chains of cruel necessity, that his unfet- 
tered feet might traverse ways of license and ease. 

The Elder Brother spoke, and his arraignment thrilled 
the hearts of the guilty and careless. They heard no 
words, but the power of his spirit made clear the im- 
port to dull earth comprehension. 

“ Oh, you who call yourselves my servants, ye are 
none of mine. Ye shall have no part in mine inherit- 
ance. Ye hug selfishness to your souls. Ye refuse 
ear to those without, who clamor for justice and mercy* 
Mercy! Ye know it not, as they who lacerated my 
body knew it not. Ye belong to that rabble of a dead 
century — persecutors, traitors to the truth, bigots, merci- 
less followers of a soulless leader. Here — pleasure and 
fashion. Out there — famine and fashion, too, of a kind 
— the fashion embroidered in tears and enlaced in 
misery, the fashion of hollow cheeks and lusterless 
eyes and emaciated forms; the never-dying fashion of 
hopeless submission. They yield to you as the Israel- 
ites yielded to their tyrant. The clanking of their 
chains is on your threshhold. But, listen! as you count 
the links and the captives, so surely as I, the spirit of 
eternity, stand here among you, so surely shall there 
arise for your terror the crash of the falling chains 
slipping from those captives, and the jubilate rising 
above your imperious commands. Our chosen labors 
in our service. Some he has already liberated. Some 
throats already sing his praise. Some feet are on the 


LAZARUS. 


25 


way, bearing the news to those who still languish in 
captivity. Some hands are already outreached to help 
him in his work. He hath my blessing, so beware. 
Oh, people, lest ye be smitten for your iniquity.” 

And then the sternness vanished. The persuasive- 
ness of the Nazarene spoke to them a message, and 
they almost bent to the power. Dives resolved that a 
new system of government should be inaugurated in 
his name. The roar of the machinery should not dull 
the ears of the laborers to the sweetness of the message 
he would send them. The eyes should brighten, and 
the white lips smile, and the sad hearts grow glad. 
Yes, on the morrow he would begin a good work. 

But then the band, from behind the banking foliage, 
struck up a sensuous invitation to the dance. There 
was a moment’s hesitation, a stirring of feet, a tingling 
of pleasure, and the influence of the Elder Brother van- 
ished in the overpowering persuasion of earthly delights. 

The voice of the curb sang faintly. As the Elder 
Brother and Lazarus went from the door it died in a 
hoarse wail: “He was despised — despised — and re- 
jected — rejected of men.” 

“Dear Lord,” said Lazarus, “I will be faithful to my 
trust. I will impress him with whom I labor to ame- 
lioration of suffering. I will go down among these peo- 
ple, who wait for the crumbs as I waited in the far cen- 
tury (but who, alas! even more unfortunate than I, get 
not even crumbs), and strive by reflection of thy purity 
and strength and love, to lift them above bitterness 
and all disturbing passions.” 


26 


LAZARUS. 


“ My blessing on thee, Lazarus.’* 

“And, Lord, I glow with hope. Yonder Dives seems 
awakened to his evil. In his heart I read the promise 
of repentance.” 

The Elder Brother answered sadly: “Alas! my Laz- 
arus. Dives knows not that this night his soul shall 
be required of him.” 

The gate of heaven swung for their entrance, and, 
as they passed, the curbstone children heard the sing- 
ing of hope and the triumphant chant of the coming 
victor. 

They searched vainly for the crumbs which Dives 
saved for further profit, and as they, disappointed, with- 
drew into the shadows, their deliverer came among them 
taking them by the hand and calling them brother. 

“And thy name?” questioned the voice which had 
sung. 

“ Reform.” And in his heart he whispered, “ Dear, 
my Lord, unfold to me wisdom for their guidance.” 


LAZARUS. 


27 


HEIMWEH. 


I know not the time nor the place of my going, 

If with golden harvest or young spring-tide sowing. 
Whether blue waters glisten and beat at my feet, 

Or if Azrael leans, where the earth and sky meet 
In a shimmering glory, to summon me hence. 

I know not; blest ignorance, that is my defense. 

Else knowing, I had neither heart for the duty 
Awaiting my hands, neither eyes for the beauty 
That smiles on the tree, and the bud, and the flower, 

But could only sit still, longing for that glad hour 
When the gates of time close and Azrael wafts me 
Through star-bordered aisles to my wonderful country. 

O country of dreams ! where we wake in the sunlight 
Of a life without tears, of a day without night; 

Where our lips drip with song and our hearts, keeping time, 
Beat the glorious score of a love-laden chime. 

Dear home of my heart ! Sweet the lime of my going. 

If it be with full sheaves or with the spring sowing. 


28 


LAZARUS. 


IV. 

The Elder Brother and Lazarus accompanied Re- 
form in his labors, the Elder Brother pointing out 
abuses and suggesting remedies, and Lazarus, by per- 
sonal contact and spiritual force, impressing Reform 
with the needful measures. There were moments of 
discouragement for his great heart; days when the sun 
forgot to shine and the shadows fell early across the 
horizon, but, with the indomitable spirit which, in fail- 
ure found a spur to greater effort, he waded through 
deeps of discouragement to the shining shore of suc- 
cess. And upon that shore he found friends for his 
cause, for success is inviting. They came timidly at 
first, with lagging step and loose hand pressure, but 
presently Reform’s enthusiasm crept into their veins, 
and their pulses bounded to the consideration of others’ 
woe. They went back with Reform, and, in the world 
of labor, took places at his right hand, ready to obey, 
fertile in suggestion, prompt in execution. They were 
content with Reform as leader, for true progress knows 
not envy nor jealousy. They recognized his initial 
effort and superior strength as constituting him leader. 

He took them through the city’s streets, through the 
squares where wealth and luxury ruled, and down into 
the alleys where crime and poverty skulked in the 
shadows and stared boldly from the tenements. He 


LAZARUS, 


29 


showed the fruits of the marriage of want and tempta- 
tion — crime and depravity of various degrees. He 
showed the viciousness of the system which grinds the 
body and soul of one mortal that another may be nour- 
ished in luxury, and expand under the influence of 
beauty. 

The ranks of followers swelled until the interest of 
the sufferers themselves was aroused, and they joined 
their feeble strength to the one battling for them. Their 
hopeless apathy was hard to overcome. Rebellion some- 
times broke out, only to be succeeded by apparent in- 
difference to their misery. And the rebellion, being 
born of anger rather than a stern purpose to secure the 
right, was evanescent, and failed of its purpose. But 
under Reform’s teaching the people learned to estimate 
themselves and their labor properly. Abject humility 
gave place to self confidence. The hoarse whispers of 
bitterness changed to open demands for rights. Con- 
spiracy and plots against the personal liberty of em- 
ployers changed to open battle and a firm adherence 
to principle. 

They appointed delegations to wait upon employers 
with reasonable requests for better wage and shorter 
working hours. They came into the presence of wealth 
and power, not with the servility of former days, but 
with the fearlessness of men. They offered no cring- 
ing adulation as the antidote of the bitter medicine they 
pressed to his lips. They looked him in the eye with 
the boldness of those of his own class. They presented 
their petition courteously but firmly, and they made 


30 


LAZARUS. 


him understand that to resist were to invite his own 
financial emharrassment. They and their fellows were 
brothers in a good cause. They would stand or fall 
together. Sometimes they succeeded, sometimes not; 
and then other workmen were imported who did the 
work at the price which they refused. 

And under these difficulties Reform counseled pa- 
tience and self control. 

“Patience!” they cried. “Have we not possessed 
our souls in patience? Has not that been the first les- 
son of the cradle? Have we not suffered long enough? 
Why, see you here. Reform, our tenements, miserable 
quarters even for beasts, swarm with disease-breeding 
germs. There is no drainage, no ventilation; no way 
to ward off pestilence should it approach. And we 
are powerless, utterly. Those tenements belong to rich 
men who will not repair; who consider sanitation a 
word beyond our comprehension, and ventilation a lux- 
ury beyond our needs. 

“They send their agents to collect the rent promptly. 
If we have been fortunate in getting work steadily 
through the month it is paid, and little remains for 
clothing, and fuel, and food. If it is not paid, out we 
go into the street, we and our wives and helpless 
children. 

“We go to our work before daylight, and leave it 
only when human strength is exhausted. Often for 
weeks at a time we do not see our children waking. 
We have no recreation, no pleasure. Our poor pay 
leaves no margin for sickness or death, and death loves 


LAZARUS. 


31 


the squalor of the tenement. We are poorly nourished. 
Our food is of the cheapest. We are often cold. Our 
children huddle around small stoves, in which smould- 
ers the refuse fuel which they have gathered in lumber 
yards or along railway tracks. 

“ You talk of patience. Why, if we had not patience 
we should have ended it long ago by helping ourselves 
and our families into the unknown, which surely can 
hold nothing worse than life. Men who call them- 
selves servants of God, and who live in luxury, come 
to us to preach. Their minds can not conceive our 
needs. They are cultured in theological lore. They 
know history and art, and science and literature — every- 
thing worth knowing, save humanity. They know 
Christ, but they do not know man. They put aside 
the thought of physical distress, because, they argue, 
suffering is universal — it is one of God’s laws, and alle- 
viation for all being Impossible, why dim the bright- 
ness of their intellects with the shadow ofour misery? 

“ They come to us from comfortable parsonages and 
from rich pulpits, where their greatest hardship is to 
hear a jarring tone in a choral, or to have inapprecia- 
tion thrust upon their sensitiveness. They are big- 
bellied with a surfeit of rich food. They look at our 
scanty larder and they say: ‘O, this class of people 
have not tastes nor needs such as we.’ They wrap costly 
garments about their plump shoulders and go back to 
their warm firesides, where they write eloquent ser- 
mons on the great labor problem (Christian love the 
only solution). Their mission agents come among us. 


32 


LAZARUS. 


They draw down the corners of their mouths in mock 
sorrow and humility. They invite us together, and 
then harangue us on the needs of the soul. Soul needs 
when our bodies are perishing! What time have we 
to discuss religion when ten hours, and often more, 
are dragged in hard labor? 

“ Oh, yes, they are full of pretty theories for the bet- 
terment of our condition. We are to come to Christ; 
we must trust, only trust, and rest in the consciousness 
that all is for the best. Probably it is — for the other 
man. But it is not best for us. It is all for the worst. 
We do not want theorizing. We demand practical 
help or else silence on the part of these religious agi- 
tators. And we do not pin our faith to the kind of a 
God that would appoint such a condition ‘all for the 
best’ of humanity. A partial parent is never popular 
with his neglected children. We believe in God, else 
we would give up the struggle. But the God idea is 
built upon human experience. And our refusal to ac- 
cept these religious enthusiasts brands us as hardened 
sinners. 

“We are ready, yes, anxious, for practical Christi- 
anity. When ministers are bold and fearless enough 
to espouse our cause, we shall be glad to join hands 
with them, and give the welfare of our souls consider- 
tion. We need men of brains to plead for us. We are, 
in the main, unlearned. The minister who labors for 
a better system of work; who presents our claims to 
the employers of his congregation, speaking the truth, 
though he offend all, will do a good work. 


LAZARUS. 


33 


“We do not want charity. We refuse it, except 
where refusal means suffering or death for our child- 
ren. We do not want sentiment. The world of labor 
has no place for soft sentiment. It is overcrowded 
with hard facts. We want men wise enough to secure 
better legislation, and brave enough to enforce better 
law observance. Our outbursts of misery are denom- 
inated disloyal, unpatriotic. It is not so. Our accusers 
give our personal cries a national interpretation. 

“ Misery is negatively silent on the subject of patri- 
otism. Eyes blurred by overwork can not see the stars 
of our country’s ffag. Hands overstrained can not up- 
hold the standard. Feet, pierced by the thorns of a 
cruel pathway, are laggard at the bugle’s call. 

“And then, too, oh! Reform, the women of the rich 
world come to our women. They, too, preach the 
Christian virtues, but, shuddering at our squalor, they 
gather their skirts about them lest our children touch 
them. They help grind our women in the infernal 
machine of their selfishness. They overwork them, 
and then neglect to pay. ‘Oh, it is only a little; some 
other time,’ they say, and our women come home to 
starving children for whom that little might have 
bought bread.” 

“And the sons of them!” 

The faces of those delegates burned angrily red. 
“ Oh, them, we could slay! For they tempt our daugh- 
ters with fair promises of ease and luxury, and they, 
who never have known even comfort, and who have 
not had delicate training, are only too ready to yield. 


34 


LAZARUS. 


And for their wrong is no redress. The rich roan’s 
son is amply protected; the poor man’s daughter is de- 
fenseless. Against this wrong, also, we need a cham- 
pion. Yet, who of the ministers is brave enough to 
offend the fastidiousness of his congregation by such 
plain presentation of existing wrong. None. We chal- 
lenge them. None dares take up the weapon in de- 
fense of morality, and strike the blows which should 
be struck for purity. 

‘‘Oh, yes, they touch delicately upon such forbidden 
subjects, but indelicate facts do not bear delicate hand- 
ling. They need to be stripped naked and held to the 
shamed eyes of the guilty. Patience! Verily, we have 
had patience. Oh, Reform, labor for us or we die.” 

All this not as written, but in broken speech and 
uncouth language, which yet was eloquent with mean- 
ing. Other delegations went into the legislative halls to 
secure the enactment of better laws, but, being in the 
minority, their voices were unheard in the din of the 
political wrangle over partisan spoils. Were a legis- 
lator bold enough for espousal of labor’s cause he was 
spoken of sneeringly by his colleagues, with signifi- 
cant taps of the forehead. But the followers of Reform 
were patiently persistent. After a while an uneasiness 
ruffled the serenity of the world of commerce. Afen 
of finance began to discern the dim possibility of an 
invasion of their hitherto undisputed domain. 

The emissaries of Reform pushed beyond the guard, 
and once within the City of Toil, made themselves heard. 
They spoke to the workmen in shops and factories. 


LAZARUS. 


35 


They urged them to amalgamation. They showed them 
the strength of unity, the weight of solidity. At first 
the workmen listened stolidly, without interest. But 
at the close of their day’s work they began to think. 
They, in turn, grew restless. They shook off despair, 
and began to look for the break of the promised morn- 
ing. They disseminated the knowledge they gained, 
and by-and-by they, too, were allied with that vast 
army of laborers demanding rights and treatment due 
men. Under the tutelage of Reform’s agents they or- 
ganized, in unions and societies, for the promotion of 
labor interests. They were counseled to conservatism. 
Reform himself might be radical — a leader necessarily 
is, else he will have no following, for radicalism implies 
a stout heart and a true eye and bold hand — but those 
who follow must conform to existing conditions, to a 
degree, or starve. 

And they did not know that nightly the Elder 
Brother and Lazarus were among them, by their purity 
trying to quell disturbance, and bring order out of the 
social chaos. 

They walked with Reform, the Elder Brother point- 
ing out cause behind effect, and Lazarus impressing 
their chosen with measures for relief. 

“Dear Elder Brother,” said Lazarus, one day, “I 
feel encouraged in our work. When we first came to 
earth it seemed the aroma of that far country where I 
once lived drew me from the earth misery. 

“Dear Brother” — his shamed eyes drooped — “I must 
say to thee what is in my heart. I must make word 


36 


LAZARUS. 


confession, though thou surely knowest before the tell- 
ing. At first I was like all enthusiasts. My heart 
bounded to my work, and then there came the subtle 
fragrance of my one-time country. I dreamed of the 
green hills and blue sea and olive groves of that dear 
land, and it seemed my heart would break could I not 
go back. The centuries of joy vanished in that over- 
powering wish to behold again my once earthly habi- 
tation.” 

The Elder Brother laid his hand on Lazarus’ arm, 
tenderly: “Lazarus, thou wert not happy in that time.” 

“ Nay, Lord, I was poor and sick, and deemed worthy 
only the companionship of the dogs which whined at 
Dives’ gate; but. Lord, that was home !” 

The beautiful eyes softened. “Lazarus,” said the 
Elder Brother, “thou dost not understand the workings 
of thy own nature. That desire, which to thee seemed 
disloyal to our work, was but the tightening of the 
cord which binds thee to it. Without that love for 
home thou couldst not feel love for mankind. Without 
that longing for the spot thou once called thy own, 
thou couldst not enter into other men's longing for 
home. Think not, Lazarus, that the smallness of earth- 
life is lost completely in the greatness of eternity 
Think you the cross, with its shame and anguish, is all 
my remembrance of earth.? Nay. I see the blue water 
of Galilee, and the throbbing life of Jerusalem, and all 
the varied beauties of the country I loved. I see my 
home and the bench v/here I worked, and those remem- 
brances bind me to the homes and the labor of earth.” 


LAZARUS. 


37 


A gladness replaced the troubled expression of Laz- 
arus’ face. “And I have thy forgiveness, Lord?” 

“Thou dost not need it, my Lazarus.” 

“I am happier for the telling. That season of long- 
ing is over. And now, dear Lord, thy spirit hath 
swelled my heart with love for humanity. I see child- 
ren hungry and cold, dwarfed of soul and stunted of 
body, and a fatherhood awakes in me urging relief. I 
see worn men and women, and the influence of the far 
century vanishes. I take my place in this age longing 
to manifest in succor for the afflicted.” 

“Yea, my Lazarus. And I, too, enter into these 
lives with understanding. The old age, with its mira- 
cles and tragedy, fades before the countless repetitions 
of that tragedy. My Lazarus, our chosen shall yet 
accomplish our purpose. The time is slow. Yea, and 
so was my earth-work. Thirty-three years, my Laz- 
arus — thirty-three, before the first fruits of my work 
were yielded; and then the yield was borne in the 
arms of death. And out of this work, too, shall come 
death — death for vicious systems and iniquitous op- 
pressions and cruel persecution. And as from the one 
death came life everlasting, so from the death of soph- 
istry and fallacy shall come the continuity of a life of 
truth. An angel shall roll away the stone from the 
sepulcher where the oppressed and persecuted lie, and 
they shall issue to life triumphant.” 


33 


LAZARUS. 


WHEN NIGHT COMES. 


The children come home when the sun goeth down — 
When the sun goeth down to his rest, 

In night robes of crimson and purple and gold, 

And with clouds cuddled low on his breast. 

They slip through the gates that old time leaves ajar 
For the day, as it hasteneth by. 

And closely they nestle up warm to my heart, 

When the shadowy night draweth nigh. 

The children come home when the day lieth dead 
On his bier of a pale, purple mist; 

And when his white face by the gathering dusk 
And the tremulous starlight is kissed. 

They reach out their wee dimpled fingers to mine; 

On my old wrinkled face there doth lie 
The soft, clinging pressure of warm baby lips. 

When the shadowy night draweth nigh. 

My darlings come home in my desolate age, 

From the land of the sweet long ago; 

They creep in my arms, with the old baby touch. 

And with lisping words, tender and low. 

They soothe the hard pain of my poor mother-heart. 
And they check every grief-burdened sigh. 

With songs of the sweet cradle-time that shall be 
When the last shadowed night draweth nigh. 


LAZAkUS. 


39 


F. 

The heavenly visitants of earth sent unto Reform a 
messenger. In his slumber he dreamed of the evil 
which oppressed him. He had labored without rest; he 
had prayed without ceasing. Over his threshhold he 
had written the Master’s glorious promise of comfort: 
“ Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy- 
laden, and I will give you rest.” He sheltered all he 
could. Not only was he active in devising means for 
lightening his brothers’ burdens, but he found oppor- 
tunity to prove his loyalty and disinterestedness by 
Samaritan deeds. 

The Elder Brother called Lazarus and said: “My 
Lazarus, who think you, of all the mothers of earth, 
loved her child best?” 

And Lazarus answered readily: “She who suffered 
most for the good of the child. Motherhood knows 
little deviation. Dear, my Lord, I think thy mother 
loved best of earth mothers. She wept at thy feet; 
she beheld thy anguish. Yea, she loved best.” 

But the Elder Brother answered: “Yea, my Laz- 
arus, she loved well. But other mothers have suffered 
in their children’s physical anguish, too. Why, doubt- 
less, the mothers of those crucified malefactors loved 
their sons even as my mother loved me. But yet, the 
sacrifice was not of the mother, but of the victim. 
Lazarus, who in those far centuries loved best?” 


40 


LAZARUS. 


And then, across the vision of Lazarus there swept 
a desert scene; the dull waste and the scorching sun 
and two figures isolated in the desolateness. A woman 
and a child moved across the burning sands, their feet 
blistered, their lips parched, their throats stifling for a 
drink of fresh water. 

Lazarus turned with quick comprehension. “ Dear 
Elder Brother, that mother loved best who took her 
son and went forth with him into certain misery. She 
stands out unique in the pictures of motherhood which 
panoramaize the centuries. Hagar loved best of all 
mothers, my Lord.” 

“Yea. And Hagar shall be the messenger to Re- 
form to impress upon him the distress of the children 
who labor.” 

So Reform, in his dream, heard the voice of a woman. 
And from one tone in that voice — a tone which ma- 
ternity only sounds — he knew the woman to be a 
mother. 

“ Listen, Reform,” she said, “ I am a messenger from 
the Country Beautiful, to express the Elder Brother’s 
thought concerning the children. Oh, Reform, by my 
motherhood, I implore you to hasten the work for 
them.” 

Then, in the dream, she took his hand and led him 
out into the city’s streets. Within the shelter of a door- 
way they saw a little child, his head drooped forward 
on his breast, the teardrops dried on his cheeks and a 
bundle of papers by his side. Hagar bent and kissed 
the child and he smiled. 


LAZARUS. 


41 


“ Mothers have passed him by,” she said, “ and yet 
no gratitude for their own protected little ones has 
stirred them to compassion for his helplessness.” 

She looked doubtfully at Reform a moment and then 
she added softly: ‘^Friend, Azrael obeys where we 
command. Doth it not seem well to transplant this 
flower to a sunnier clime?” 

And Reform answered gravely: ‘‘Hagar, sweet 
spirit of motherhood, do thy will.” 

Then Hagar put her fingers to her lips and from their 
tips wafted a whisper into space. There was a rustle 
in the air, a flutter of wings, and Azrael stood before 
them, his red lips parted and his dark eyes glowing. 
His face, like the mist of morning, broke into glad 
smiles when Hagar pointed to the child. He stooped 
and tenderly lifted the child’s face. The moonlight 
streamed full upon it, revealing the thin outline and 
whiteness. Azrael pressed his lips close over those of 
the child. When he arose the little face wore a new 
whiteness. The hands, which had lifted at Azrael’s 
touch, fell back. 

“ Sorrow will never more touch him,” said Azrael. 
“ Reform, men fear me. They shudder at the flutter 
of my wings. They feel the chill of my presence, and 
muttering prayers against me, they draw close to- 
gether. And yet I am the poor man’s best friend. I 
soothe his grief and lighten his burden. When I kiss 
the little children, their want and pain changes to the 
plenitude of joy and the exuberance of health. Not 
an hour goes by but I breath upon some mortal and 


42 


LAZARUS. 


waft him to the Country Beautiful. Come, thou and 
Hagar, and we will go to a house where I am needed 
this night.” 

So the trio, the spirit of motherhood, the angel of 
death and the Messiah of labor went into a poor home 
where a child battled with pain. The mother held it 
in her arms and drew her skirts up close about it to 
drive off the cold. The father sat in one corner of the 
room with his face buried in his hands. 

“ See,” said Azrael. “ The story is old but it will 
bear recountal. Yonder man hath searched vainly for 
work. He is one. Reform, who was allied to you. He 
was one who resisted injustice, and who, to better the 
cause of labor and the interests of his brethren, refused 
to work longer under grinding conditions. Another 
took his place, who would labor for pitiful hire. Ne- 
cessity drove the man to that against which his man- 
hood rebelled; but a man must sacrifice principle when 
his children are starving. Himself; he can suffer even 
unto death for that he holds dear, but the dependent — 
ah. Reform, they conquer his independence. And so, 
when this man, seeing the futility of accomplishing 
his desired end by withdrawal, went back and prof- 
fered himself to his employer, humbly asking rein- 
statement, he was scornfully denied and thrust from 
the door. Hope was not dead Other doors of labor 
would surely receive him. But as day after day went 
by and door after door was shut in his face, he began 
to see that the world of finance was banded against 
him and those who had gone out with him. He dis- 


LAZARUS. 


43 


covered that because he had opposed one employer’s 
tyranny, other employers were warned against him as 
though he were a dangerous beast. 

And now in this city, where banquets are spread for 
the favored, this man’s child lies dying of hunger. 
The mother prays against me. But He, whose mes- 
senger I am, knoweth best. I do his will. The child 
this night shall join the host of children who dwell 
where suffering and ^ant cannot be. Come thou, my 
little one. Let us go hence. Let us go away from 
this dark world into the glory of the Country Beau- 
tiful.” 

He bent over the child. The mother, feeling the 
coldness of the little hands and seeing the strange 
pallor of the face, knew that Azrael was near. 

“ My darling! ” she cried, “ speak to the mother who 
loves you.” 

And the lips answered her from the other side, 
“ Mother, I am not cold. I am no longer hungry.” 

But alas! the mother heard nothing but the shrilling 
of the wind and tfie wail that came from the outer con- 
fines of earth: “He was despised — despised — and 
rejected — rejected of men.” 

Then Azrael spread his wings and vanished. 

Hagar and Reform went out into the street. The 
moon had sunk behind a cloud. The night grew black 
and a heaviness of sorrow filled the air. Hagar led 
Reform to the places where he had not been. He had 
seen privation; but daylight revealed only partially. 
Here in the abandon of night they beheld men and 


44 


LAZARUS. 


women and children huddled together in narrow 
rooms, some sleeping, some wakeful with the cold that 
grew more intense with the passing of the night 
hours. 

They went into tall tenements swarming with 
humanity and into fireless rooms. They lingered by 
the sick beds of children whom Azrael had not yet 
been sent to kiss. It seemed to Reform that his heart 
would break with the wretchedness, which, with his 
best efforts, only slightly could be alleviated. 

The darkness faded to gray dawn. A mist uprose 
and spread a thin veil across the horizon. And then a 
stir betokened morning in the world of labor. Weary 
people arose, unrefreshed, stiffened by the cold, and, 
with hunger unappeased, went forth to labor. The 
children went too; and Reform, in his dream, went 
with the children to the factories and shops and stores. 
Hagar bent over them often with a wealth of mother- 
hood in her pitying eyes. She kissed the little faces 
and suddenly the work grew light. She touched the 
little hands and they moved more readily. 

Through all the places where children labor they 
went, until the sun lighted the west and the dust 
enshrouded the city. The doors of the working places 
opened and the children streamed out in a listless line, 
and, shivering, went back to their cheerless homes. 
Hagar led Reform to the city gates: 

“Reform,” she said, “see that this infamy is crushed. 
These babes labor for a pittance, their childhood im- 
poverished, their frail bodies stunted, their souls tainted 


LAZARUS. 


45 


by evil surroundings. Labor for them. Enlist others for 
their cause. Open the eyes of legislators to this iniquity. 
The restriction of child-labor may seem hard at first 
in homes where there is little income; but such re- 
striction will, in time, increase the value of adult labor. 
Men will be compelled to hire adults where they now 
employ children, and these will demand, and eventu- 
ally secure, just treatment. Oh, Reform, by the moth- 
erhood which suffers in seeing little ones thus thrust 
prematurely into toil, I bid you agitate without ceas- 
ing against this evil. I go now. Take thou Hagar’s 
blessing. Let the desert in which I and my Ishmael 
wandered, be to thee, typical of the desert of labor 
over which the children must drag their blistered feet. 
And, as the spring of water restored our fainting souls 
and perishing bodies, be thou the spring of hope, 
marking the restoration of those desert wanderers. 
Lift them from the depths into light. Bring them to 
the oasis of love. Friend, farewell.” 

The gates closed. Their clang awoke Reform. He 
looked about his room. Afar off he heard the echo of 
the curbstone singing: “He was despised — despised — 
and rejected — rejected of men.” 

The pathos of the cry smote his heart. He felt as 
the disciples must have felt when they awoke and 
learned that the Elder Brother had wrestled alone in 
the Garden of Sorrows He felt the heaviness of that 
dark watch, and aloud he cried: “Lord! Lord!” 


LAZARUS. 


OUR BELOVED. 


As up the stream, unto the very feet 
Of him for whose dear sake she yielded life, 

Was blown the flower whom Arthur’s knights called sweet 
Lily Maid of Astolat; the air rife 
With sobs of those who mourned her early sleep; 

So from the world of hate and weariness 
Shall we go forth, some day, upon the deep 
And silent stream of Rest. Sad tenderness 
Of grief will follow us, and voiceless Death 
Will steer the barque, and in our idle hands 
Hang blcoms of immortality. The breath 

Of them will fan our cheeks, and white-robed bands 
Of saints will lift us in our slumber sweet, 

And lay us down at our Beloved’s feet. 

Not like the stern Sir Lancelot will He 

Gaze on us then; with less of love than grief 
That we, poor flowers, could not with true love see 
Some worthier knight; but far beyond belief 
Will be the tenderness of His glad smile. 

And He will lift us up, and on His breast 
Warm into life our frozen hearts. And while 
We wonder at His face, a blessed rest. 

And peace, and love forever satisfied. 

Will creep into the souls of us. O sail. 

That bears us on to where the blest abide, 

Sing to the winds! And ye, who weep and wail 
Our going, dry your tears. Our true knight waits 
To give us welcome at the palace gates. 


LAZARUS. 


47 


VL 

The Elder Brother said unto Magdalene: “Sister, a 
mission is appointed thee. In the far century thou 
sinned and repented. But the story of thy shame hath 
been more enduring than the glory of thy repentance. 
Were it not so, the men who call themselves my serv- 
ants would demand for those women who bear thy 
name gentler consideration and broader charity. They 
would say to the women of their charge: ‘Are your 
own skirts clean? Has no taint of immorality fallen 
across the purity of your souls? But no, they may, 
themselves, be charitable, but their wives and daugh- 
ters they keep from contamination of those women. 
They mean well; but they have not correctly inter- 
preted my message.” 

Their women give, but of the larger charity which 
enters into the misery of a life, seeking to comfort and 
purify, they know little. They form societies for the 
care of the poor; and these do their work nobly. They 
practice self-denial that they may give; and that is 
well, both for the recipient and the giver, for sacrifice 
strengthens the soul. But something yet is needed. 
Some one is needed, so large of heart and pure of pur- 
pose that he can go to those who sin and lift them. 
Some one is needed to go into the world of labor, 
where the battle for bread rages so fiercely that victims 
fall and perish by the wayside or are lifted by men with 


48 


LAZARUS. 


sinister purpose and set on a road of dishonor leading 
to greater wretchedness. 

Thou, Magdalene, in thy glory and not thy shame, 
shalt go into the world of labor and impress our 
chosen. Those of fashion and pleasure would scorn 
thee even as thou wert scorned in the dead century; 
but Reform will not. He will be responsive, recog- 
nizing that she who hath known misery and sin is 
better adapted to labor for the unfortunate than she 
who, from her lofty height of unblemished purity, 
speaks platitudes, and not from experience and the full- 
ness of her heart. She who goes must not only be ac- 
quainted with grief, but with labor. And thou didst 
labor, my Magdalene?” 

She meekly bowed her head. Almost it seemed that 
the blush of shame mantled her cheek, albeit centuries 
had spiritualized. Her long hair fell across her face as 
if to shield it, and swept its dusky length down her 
white robe. 

“ Yea, my Lord,” she answered, “I did labor in that 
time, when I had put sin and pleasure behind me ; and 
I am glad to be of service. Dear, my Lord, long have 
I yearned to come into closer relation with the sinful 
world. I have seen my history repeated with so many 
variations of the evil theme, that my soul has burned to 
cover it with an overshadowing aria of purity. And) 
too, I have witnessed the conditions which make such 
stories possible; the privations leading to sensuous 
temptation; the desire for excitement which grows out 
of continued monotony of ‘labor; the despairing effort 


LAZARUS. 


49 


to alter, somehow, the laws of a miserable existence. 
And the end is always the same — scalding tears and 
bitter remorse and fruitless endeavor to retrace the 
road. My Lord, I judge only from my own experi- 
ence, but it seems to me that the ruling motive of life 
pursues us even into eternity. I am humbly thankful 
that some years of uprightness were given me wherein 
to blot the stain of my record. But, alas, the remem- 
brance of those peaceful years is dim beside that of 
sin. Lord, centuries of heavenly purity have been 
mine, and yet I cannot forget. I feel unworthy the 
mission appointed me. I long to do thy service, but, 
dear, my Lord, send some worthier messenger to that 
world of labor.” 

She drew her dark hair farther across her face and 
turned to go her way; but the Elder Brother detained 
her with gentle speech. 

“Magdalene, who would better do the work?” 

“Why, Lord,” she answered humbly, “a worthier 
would be one who had no sinful record. Lord, it is 
not fit that a Magdalene, whose name is a synonym 
for moral uncleanness, should labor for those who, 
perchance, are not impure but only unfortunate. There 
were many who were monuments of purity in the far 
ages — Martha, and Mary, and Dorcas, and Deborah. 
Let one of them be thy ambassador.” 

The Elder Brother listened in silence. Magdalene 
did not see the love beaming in his tender face. She 
held her head lower. The dead shame was resurrected 
by the nearness of divine purity and she could not lift 
her eyes to that glorified countenance. 


50 


LAZARUS. 


“Magdalene!” he called softly. 

Her fingers interlaced in a tight clasp. Oh, if only 
she were worthy to gaze upon that blessed face! In 
that far day she had not been afraid, though realizing 
her iniquity. But eternity had quickened every faculty* 
intensified every emotion; and that of shame now pre- 
dominated over other emotions. 

“ Magdalene! ” he called again, and moved nearer. 

Then she lifted her eyes. The Elder Brother spoke 
gently. “ Sister, thou and I must not dwell so far apart 
if we are to work for humanity. They of earth con- 
cluded my work for mortals ended when my last groan 
ascended from the cross. It is not so. My work was 
then only begun. Through the eighteen hundred years 
and more since my earth life went out, I have labored 
for them. Loving the world well enough to die for it, 
how could I ever forget it? Though mortals have not 
seen me, I have been among them, sorrowing with 
their sorrow, rejoicing with their joy, sharing their 
burdens. Unheard, I have called to them messages of 
love. Some have been quickened to generous work 
for humanity. Them I have inspired to labor. I have 
gone into their lives, appreciating their temptations 
and trials. Magdalene, eternity hath not obliterated 
the man-side of my character. As the divine element 
sanctified my earth life, so doth the human element, 
which is still an integral part of my nature, give un- 
derstanding of earth needs. Lazarus felt himself un- 
worthy my purpose in that he could not banish 
remembrance of earthly habitation. As I said to him. 


LAZARUS. 


51 


I say to thee: Those memories of earth bind thee closer 
to the appointed work. Didst thou forget thy tempta- 
tions and fall, there would be in thy heart no sympathy 
for those who likewise are tempted. Magdalene, not 
death and not centuries sanctify, but noble work. 
Thou made issuance from evil before coming into 
this holy place. And since, thou hast, in the fullness of 
thy womanly pity, labored for others, thinking only of 
thyself with repentant humility. That repentance 
hath endeared thee to me. It hath purified and made 
thee a worthy ambassador. Art thou ready for my 
commission? ” 

A light glorified her face. “ Yea, Lord,” she answered 
gladly, “If thou deem me worthy, then am I ready for 
any service for thee and humanity.” 

Then Reform, in the dusk of a busy day heard the 
parting of the air and inhaled the fragrance of a 
spiritual presence. Perhaps to others the room would 
have held no associations beyond those of labor. The 
scattered papers and charts and diagrams would have 
spoken of a busy life. The room might have seemed 
heavy with half-formulated plans and embryonic 
theories. But to Reform the room was sweetened by 
the blessing on his work. He opened his soul to the 
influence of the hour, and the twilight messenger 
spoke to his inmost heart concerning the women of the 
world of labor. “Oh, Reform,” she said, “I, all un- 
worthy, am sent by our Elder Brother to voice his love 
for the unfortunate. Would there were many to battle 
for the weak! Would there were tongues to speak 


52 


LAZARUS, 


for those who are dumb, and hands to write for those 
who are unlearned, and feet to speed on the journey 
of succor! But timorous prejudice stands in the road 
of advancement. Reform, come with me and we will 
go where you may see how women suffer.” 

The twilight had deepened to darkness. The moon 
rose behind a hill and cast a faint reflection over the 
city, etherealizing its beauty and softening its angulari- 
ties. The stars came out in the heavens and glittered 
a pathway for the skurrying clouds. Magdalene led 
Reform through the city streets and beyond to where 
the fields lay brown and barren. They came to a 
stable, isolated from other buildings. 

Beside it Magdalene paused, and, pointing through 
the half-opened door, said: “Look! There lies one, 
representative of my despised name. Listen, and have 
engraven on your heart the lesson I would teach.” 

* ¥r 

A Young Thing lay upon abed of straw in the stable. 
The white moonlight stared boldly through the cracks 
in the rafters and frightened the shadows till they 
quivered into the corners and took to themselves 
strange, dusky shapes. The cob-webs, swaying in the 
night breeze, swung a blue-bottle as he sung his death 
song. Hungry rats scampered across the floor, their 
eyes gleaming like fire-balls. Without was the moan 
of the wind through the half-naked trees, the flapping 
of loose boards, the creak, creak of the weather vane. 
Within there was only the droning notes of the blue- 
bottle as he swung to his death. 


LAZARUS. 


53 


And then the silence was broken by a faint cry, a 
feeble wail, such as miserable babies give when they 
open their eyes in this new strange world. 

The Young Thing glanced down at the atom beside 
her with languid indifference. She made no movement 
to draw the child closer that it might feel the warmth 
of her body. She did not caress it in the wondering 
love which is the prerogative of blessed, honored moth- 
erhood. If she had felt any throb of natural mother- 
love in her heart it had been frozen to stillness by her 
bitter experience of this chilly night. 

She lay with her hands crossed upon her breast. A 
milk-stained spot on the bosom of her dress showed 
that her child must be at least three days old. Her 
face was white and drawn with recent pain, yet with 
the moonlight straggling in ghostly lines across it 
showed traces of beauty. The sunken eyes were black 
and unusually large and charged with pathos. The 
white lips were full and the chin dimpled. Her hair 
was thrown up over her head in two thick braids, and 
the straws matted in it emphasized its blackness. 

She turned her eyes from the child to the patch of 
sky and the single star that glowed through a hole in 
the roof. She half lowered her eyelids and looked at 
it dreamily. Memories of her innocent girlhood flitted 
across her half-numbed brain. Pictures moved, pano- 
rama-wise, before her half closed eyes; green fields, 
a homely cottage, a kindly-faced mother, a village 
church with the windows wide open to the summer 
winds and flowering sweets; an earnest speaker carry- 


54 


LAZARUS. 


ing his hearers with him back hundreds of years to 
Gethsemane and Calvary; and she had wept and 
turned white with horror at that tragedy of the cross. 
The pictures moved faster. There were flashing lights 
and dancing feet, music and a sickening perfumed air. 
She gasped for breath and a stray wind bent to kiss 
her fevered lips. The pictures moved faster. There 
were gay bold faces, familiarly admiring, whispered 
words, stolen meetings. Faster yet; there were city 
pavements, hot and blistered, jeering passers-by, de- 
serting friends, tired feet, an aching heart, a lost soul, 
a miserable revolving picture of the one old story of 
temptation and sin and belated remorse, clear down to 
the last dreary scene. 

The star twinkled down at the Young Thing know- 
ingly; and she half remembered an old story of a star 
and a babe and a great rejoicing in the heavens and on 
earth. Some echo of hosannas and a twinkling star 
chorus fell on her hearing. She dimly imagined her- 
self to be connected in some way with that old story; 
only there was no rejoicing. 

The baby stirred again and sent up its wail in feeble 
protest against her unlovingness. It roused her. Her 
great eyes flew wide open and a startled cry answered 
the baby’s plaintive appeal. She raised herself on one 
elbow and looked down at the puny child. A spasm 
of hate convulsed her ghastly face. She drew further 
away in repulsion. 

“How I hate you!” she cried hoarsely, “you mis- 
erable thing, that’s sent me, hurr}’^- scurry to eternity. 


LAZARUS. 


55 


You that’s my shame and disgrace and that’s made me 
a thing of the streets. God ! me to die like this !” 

She glowered at the baby as if it, poor thing ! could 
understand. All the failure of her life, the disappoint- 
ment, the heart-ache, the remorse, swelled into a burn- 
ing hatred against the helpless child, whose advent had 
branded her with infamy. She laid her hand across 
its mouth as if to stifle its breath, but the child caught 
at it hungrily, missing the warm breast against which 
it should have lain. She jerked her hand away and 
struck the little face so that it glowed with an added 
crimson. The child uttered one cry and then lay 
still; so still that she bent closer to see if it bi/feathed 
at all. A flush of shame overspread her cheek and she 
touched the ugly red mark almost caressingly. 

“ No, I oughtn’t to have done that,” she muttered. 
“ Not that I’d cared much if it had killed you. But 
’tain’t your fault, you poor thing. You didn’t ask to 
come. But I hate you just the same ! ” she cried vin- 
dictively, scowling into the blinking baby eyes, “more 
than anything on top this earth, unless it’s him — him 
that’s hurt me. Oh ! ” 

She fell back exhausted. The tears crept from under 
her lids and splashed on the baby. In hurting it she 
had only followed the bent of her nature. Retaliation 
was sweet. Some one had hurt her. She had passed 
the grievance on along the line of humanity. Perhaps 
this atom, some day, would feel that subtle suggestion 
which often disturbs the waking thoughts, of a time 
and place belonging to some other existence, or of 


56 


LAZARUS. 


events too remote to be clearly remembered, and then, 
with the smart of a blow and the sting of bitter words, 
would come his turn, and he would deal to another as 
it had been dealt him. 

She lay looking at the star and talking sleepily to 
herself of that other woman who lay in a stable with 
a star above her. “ Mary — that’s me — no, her — and 
rej’icin’s in the heavens. Rej’icin’s ! What for, I’d like 
to know ? And the star a-trimblin’ in its glory.” 

The baby ceased its moaning, and worn out by its 
long season of fretfulness, fell asleep. Tears glistened 
on its cheek. She raised herself again and looked at 
it curiously. She had heard that young babies do not 
cry tears unless from pain. But what had it to cry for? 
It was hungry, to be sure; but what was its suffering 
to her own? What are physical wants to that horrible 
mental want that gnaws at the heart and tugs at the 
brain till there is no peace, no hope, anywhere? When 
was ever suffering like to hers? Betrayed, forsaken, 
dying, the day of this life gone down in a sunset of 
shame, that of the life to be, dawning in pallid despair. 
She, the scarlet woman that she had heard about in 
her girlhood, waited to feel the scarlet flames of tor- 
ment eat into her quivering flesh. For she fully ex- 
pected to enter the lake of fire and brimstone. She 
drew her feet up convulsively, feeling already the 
burning lave of blood-red waves. That was the only 
religion she knew; a religion of. vengeance through 
which an omnipotent power burned the sinner and led 
the saint where green pastures and cool waters awaited 


LAZARUS. 


57 


his tired feet Of the merciful arm which forbears to 
strike, of the great tender love, enfolding saint and sin- 
ner alike, she knew nothing. 

“ I hate — hate — hate you,” she repeated over and 
over to the sleeping babe — and presently, slipping the 
words, hap-hazard among the notes of an old nursery 
melody, she wove it into an unnatural lullaby. She 
crooned it softly, so that one not understanding the 
words might have thought it a tender mother song. 
And then, swinging her arms backward and forward 
wildly, she raised her voice to an insane shriek. The 
rats heard it and drew back in their holes in affrighted 
wonder. The wind heard and joined the song with 
a rush and a roar that shook the building. The blue- 
bottle heard and struggled frantically against his fate. 
Hate! hate! And death stalked everywhere. “Hate 
— hate — hate you.” And the child slept on uncaring. 

She put her face to the baby one, but no motherly 
love or womanly pity softened her features. Spiteful 
malice gleamed in her eyes and vibrated in her voice. 
She bent to do battle with this puny foe, who had no 
strength of defense, obeying the cowardly law of na- 
ture whereby the strong prey upon the weak. 

“You shall be named Judas,” she cried sharply, 
bursting into fresh anger. “Judas! Him that betrayed 
his master. Him that turned traitor. Him that’s de- 
spised through years agone and years to be. I’ll even 
things up.” With spiteful logic she would repay one 
man’s treachery to herself by vengeance on some other, 
even though it be the innocent. She fell back on her 


58 


LAZARUS. 


straw pillow and lay twisting her fingers together in 
delirious restlessness, and muttering to herself incoher- 
ently. And then, dominated by the force of her dying 
hatred, her thoughts came straggling back and strug- 
gled for coherent expression. 

“Judas, Judas,” she murmured sleepily, clinging to 
the one thought in the persistency of delirium. The 
baby moaned. The sound aggravated her to fresh 
violence. Her thoughts quickened and sprung into 
maddening life. 

“Judas! and may you serve some other as has been 
served me. Yes, yes,” she cried feverishly, trying to 
rise, “ I’ll make it straight and clear. I’ll baptize you 
to your name. Oh, such a pretty name — and I’ll do it 
well as priest or parson, that I will. Yes, yes. I’ll 
sprinkle you with the dirt you come from and that 
you’ll go to, and that you’ll eat all the days of your 
life, and that you’ll feel blindin’ your eyes when the 
mighty of the earth go ridin’ by. Oh, I will, I will.” 

“ God, let me be,” she still muttered, scowling up at 
the patch of sky and the single glowing star that was 
like a blazing eye upon her. “ God^ you don*t know, 
Tou never was a woman^'* 

She reached out toward a pile of loose dirt that lay 
near, but her arm was not long enough to grasp it. 
Again and again she tried, panting for breath with each 
new exertion. She lay quiet a moment, and then gath- 
ering all her remaining strength for a final effort, she 
hitched herself toward it, and her trembling fingers 
gathered a handful. Laughing and exultant, she held 


LAZARUS. 


59 


it above the baby’s head. She looked at the child de- 
fiantly, as if daring resistance. She thought how 
suited to the scarlet woman was the little wrinkled, 
scarlet-faced baby. She slowly uncurled her fingers 
from about the dirt. In their trembling they shook 
some of it on her own breast. 

“Judas,” she cried, in mock solemnity, “Judas, base- 
born, I baptize you in the name of the devil, and sin, 
and death. Amen!” 

A cloud obscured the moon. The blue-bottle moaned 
a last pitiful note, the baby cried out sharply, there was 
a sudden, piercing shriek of laughter and then utter 
silence save for the scampering of the rats. 

Hi Ht * Ht Ht % 

Magdalene turned to Reform with sorrowful eyes. 
‘‘What think you. Reform?” 

He buried his face in his hands. “ Oh, spirit of pity, 
I am bowed with shame for the name of manhood.” 

“ Nay, Brother, feel not so. The world is full of 
honorable, pure-souled men. Take not one man’s base 
treachery as typical of all men. But if honest men, 
Reform, were bold in denunciation of wrong; if they 
only bravely declared intolerance of this condition of 
evil there would be fewer chapters in the great book 
of crime. Reform, that child, if he live ” 

“ He shall live. I will bring him to shelter this 
night.” 

“ Will grow in the shadow of his mother’s sin. 

It is branded upon him. He will feel the scorn of his 
fellows. He will be held down always by the shame 


6o 


LAZARUS. 


of another. That is the injustice of the world. And 
the father! He will have other children who will bear 
his name and share his fortune and be blessed with his 
tender care and love. And for this child there shall 
be nothing, neither fortune, nor love, nor care, but 
only unmerited shame and ignominy. But, in the 
Country Beautiful that father shall receive the wages 
of his sin. Reform, I know this woman’s story. She 
was one who labored and suffered much. And in her 
poverty there came one with promises and pretended 
love. What his promises were worth let her condition 
testify. What his love was worth, let that child, ush- 
ered, unwillingly into a world of sin, declare in the 
years to come. Let us go back to where you may 
send relief to the child, and go with me further down 
the ways which demand reformation. I will take you 
to places where women are toiling by feeble lights; 
where the tired eyes and faltering hands almost refuse 
to continue the struggle longer. And then we will go 
to the men, who, in part responsible for such misery, 
go their luxurious way, untrammelled by the evidence 
of their shame, careless of the souls they have sent to 
destruction.” 

They turned and went back to the city streets. Re- 
form heard across the field the delirious laugh and he 
hastened his steps toward relief. And, as they pressed 
the cold pavements of the city, the laugh strangely 
blended with the echo of the curbstone singing: 
“ He was despised — despised — and rejected — rejected 
of men.” 


LAZARUS. 


6i 


Magdalene lifted her eyes to the pale stars. ‘‘ Yea,” 
she murmured, “ Dear, my Lord, despised and rejected 
of men. A chorus hath joined that air, and thou, ac- 
quainted with grief, doth hear and understand.” 

And to Reform she said: “Verily the song fits into 
this century. He was despised, and his children — the 
suffering and wronged and despised of earth — are re- 
jected of men. Christianity is not yet noble enough 
to enfold to her bosom those despised and rejected, 
whose repentant mother I am. Oh, Reform, labor for 
the unfortunate of earth. Say to the world that where 
pure womanhood hesitates to press her dainty feet, 
there Magdalene, mother of unfortunates, will sink 
deep in the mire, if she may extend a helping hand to 
a suffering one. Take my blessing and the blessing 
of him who sent me.” 

“And the woman?” questioned Reform eagerly. 

“ Listen.” 

There was a rush in the air and the faint tones of a 
singing voice. 

“ Azrael, from the Country Beautiful, passes onward 
across the barren fields,” she said. 


LAZARUS 


WHEN AZRAEL CAME. 


When Azrael came ! When Azrael came ! 

The heavens were bright with the ruddy flame 
Of his glorious eyes. And his song blew down 
A sweet benediction unto the town. 

When Azrael came ! When Azrael came ! 

Ambition and pride were drowned in a shame 
Insurgent above their hearts. And sanctity 
Smiled out from the eyes of eternity. 

When Azrael came ! When Azrael came ! 

Lips that were trait’rous forbore to defame, 

And calumny ceased with a half-drawn breath, 
When there came to earth the Angel of Death. 


LAZARUS. 


63 


VIL 

The Elder Brother and Lazarus met again on heaven’s 
highway. Long years had passed since they had be- 
gun their work with Reform. Unknown to him, they 
had walked by his side, counseling and directing. Re- 
form had grown old, but others had sprung to his place 
with young blood and fresh energy. 

In the world of labor new conditions had arisen as 
the result of his teaching and demand. He towered 
above the city magnates. With unswerving loyalty to 
his cause, he opposed fraud and corruption and hypoc- 
risy. His speech, tempered with mercy for weakness, 
but unfailing in denunciation of evil, compelled re- 
spectful hearing. 

In the privacy of his closet he opened his heart and 
said: “Dear, my Lord, if it be given me to speak, 
words shall flow for the painting of my brothers’ sor- 
rows. If it be given me to write, still shall the theme 
be unchanged — the persecution and oppression and 
misery of humanity. If it be given me to walk down 
ways of hardship, I will not murmur if such walking 
bring me nearer to those who suffer without redress. 
Dear Lord, uphold thou me.” 

All the early years of manhood and middle age he 
had given to the cause of labor, working without 
ceasing, asking not for worldly goods nor worldly 
honor; striving, by his example, to lift the people of 


64 


LAZARUS. 


the curb nearer the Master whom he served. He went 
among them, humbly and lovingly, as went the Elder 
Brother in his day. He asked not recompense of fame 
or wealth, content if he did his Master’s will. His 
liberality shamed bigotry. His self-abnegation re- 
proached selfish greed. His purity of speech and ac- 
tion shone white in a befouled age. 

He had giv^n up all for the cause he loved. Where 
other men dwelt in the sunlight of home and in the 
love of wives and children, he dwelt alone, and he was 
essentially a home-loving and a woman-reverencing 
man. Had his great soul not reverenced womanhood 
he could not have obeyed the mandate of the Elder 
Brother, voiced through Magdalene, and gone down 
into noxious depravity for rescue. Still, had he not 
given heed to Magdalene, the wail of the outcast child 
and the despairing laughter of the outcast mother must 
have moved him to action. 

There came temptation into his life; times when the 
desire for rest almost overpowered; times when pleas- 
ure sang so enticingly he could scarcely hear the echo 
of the curbstone singing. And in those times he re- 
tired to his closet to battle; and issued forth a con- 
queror. 

And now the evening was come. The twilight fell 
softly over the city. The whistles blew and the bells 
rang and the people of the world of labor went from 
the laboring places to the homes, which, through Re- 
form’s efforts, had been made comfortable. And in 
that stream of humanity were fewer women and chib 


LAZARUS. 


65 


dren than in the old days; for, as Reform presaged, 
strong blows of legislation had shattered child labor, 
and better labor government for men had made it un- 
necessary that so many women leave their homes. 

Reform was not forsaken in his age. Friends gath- 
ered about him, yielding him the honor he never had 
asked, and evincing the love which had been so long 
a want of his warm heart. Measure for measure, they 
returned to him his love; other token of gratitude they 
could not give, for all the wealth of the city was not 
commensurate with his loving service and sacrifice. 

The Elder Brother held out his hand to Lazarus and 
they went to the room where Reform lay. They drew 
near, in the radiance of celestial beauty, and Reform, 
for the first time, beheld them. He lifted his hands 
with a glad cry: “ Dear, my Lord! My Lord!” 

The Elder Brother laid the wasted hand over the 
nail-prints of his own. “Thou hath done well, my 
chosen,” he said; “thou hath brought light from dark- 
ness, joy from despair. Years ago we came beside 
thee — Lazarus and I. We found thee in a cathedral. 
In there was the sweetness of choral music; without, 
the mournful plaint of the curbstone children.” 

“Yea,” said Reform dreamily, “Glory within and 
misery without.” 

And then, his voice, thin and broken, essayed the 
song which the curbstone singer had wailed outside 
Dives’ door. “ He was despised — despised — and re- 
jected — rejected of men.” 

His eyelids closed, but his lips moved frequently in 


66 


LAZARUS. 


muttered snatches of prayer and song. And, in un- 
dertone, surged the Messiah descriptive — “ despised 
and rejected of men. A man of sorrows and ac- 
quainted with grief.” 

The Elder Brother wrapped his arms lovingly about 
Lazarus’ shoulders, “Art weary, my Lazarus?” he 
asked. 

“Nay, Lord, I am never weary laboring for thee.” 

“ Why, then, thy sad countenance?” 

“ Lord, I yearn over those who will be deprived of 
this man’s helpful presence. My heart goes out to them 
of whom I am the prototype.” 

“Dear Lazarus! And hath thou not yet learned 
trust? And art thou of little faith? Another shall 
continue Reform’s work; and thou, if thou wilt, shall 
journey by his side, impressing him toward those, rep- 
resentative of thy name and past condition.” 

Lazarus’ eyes filled with tears. “Forgive me. Lord,” 
he said, contritely. 

They drew near to Reform. The Elder Brother 
stretched forth his nail-marked hands in benediction 
over the noble life. And as he and Lazarus silently 
turned homeward, there came a flutter of wings in the 
room, and Azrael, from the Country Beautiful, smiled 
down on the worn face. 


LAZARUS. 


67 


RESURRECTION. 


Gladly he trilled, though all the sons of earth 

Passed by with dull and careless ears. His dream 
Of some far day when men should love, a gleam 
Of sunlight was in his dark life. The birth 
Of a glad time when truth should reign and dearth 
Of sin be in the world, he sang. Death came 
One night and stilled his voice and traced his name 
On shining walls elsewhere. Men hushed their mirth 
And whispered then how sweet had been his song; 
How true and patiently resigned, how brave 
And tenderly compassionate his heart. 

And then crept forth one plaintive air that long 
Ago had been despised. From his low grave 
It rose triumphant, with divinest art. 




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